20160215

Pete Spence

Doing This and That!

i was doing this
when i tripped over that
i didn't lift it in case
the razor sharp steam
stripped the flesh off
my frivolous hand
that seems to be sinking
into the gravelly air
spilling itself rapidly
in a forward motion
erasing the foyer tiles

by the time i reached
the front door it was
summer the sun
was hanging about
waiting for orders
the menu in several
substantial volumes
might take some time!

is time a condiment?

clouds plummet
to the ground hills
hoisted in backyards
a field sown with
ketchup a row-boat
rotting in the hay

am i solid when i breathe?

wind-machines clear
the air echoes fall flat
in the advancing vacuum
where humidity has left
a stain discolouring sound

Prelude for a Soft Burial.

a rusty piano under the elms
the forte lapsed
the longer i look for the shovel
the more it avoids me
like a bird in a tree is avoiding the sky
craps on the piano one more time
while uttering a few notes
maybe stolen from the piano
for some tuneful future event
that for the moment avoids
the thought of birds trees or pianos
like a shovel in disguise

Old Valve Radio.

quite a line up of history over there
waiting to be written up
though as days months years go by
a fading takes place
vacancies appear pleading
their words by now lighter than air
scatter in the mild breeze
that refuses to be seen
takes a deep breath
before falling into the sky

too much evaporates in the morning
after lunch the afternoon solidifies
you could take a walk across the afternoon
there is something seismic about evening
and the noise as the clouds shatter
a young evening trots by aging quickly
night soaks in looking like it would
take a good polish

meanwhile history glows
on the horizon
like an old valve radio

Pete Spence was born in 1946. He is a poet, visual poet, and filmmaker, and has worked in various jobs to cover the ongoing deficit. He is currently retired from work but not from any of the above.